


Devil May Graduate

by MightySSStrawberry



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Awkward Conversations, Awkwardness, Banter, Blushing, Brotherhood, Brothers, Comedy, Cute, Dante (Devil May Cry) is a Brat, Developing Relationship, Dysfunctional Family, Eventual Romance, F/M, Family, Family Feels, Family Issues, Family Secrets, Father-Son Relationship, Fatherhood, Flirting, Friendship, Funny, High School, Humor, Innuendo, Language, Loving Marriage, Mother-Son Relationship, Motherhood, Parenthood, Romantic Comedy, Secrets, Sexual Content, Sibling Rivalry, Siblings, Stubborn Vergil (Devil May Cry), Teasing, Teenagers, Tsunderes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:26:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27061897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MightySSStrawberry/pseuds/MightySSStrawberry
Summary: What if Eva never died? What if Sparda never disappeared? What if Dante and Vergil never had all that trauma and were able to go to high school like any other teenagers?   (Synopsis continued in Beginning Notes)EXCERPT:“I don’t have a girlfriend,” Vergil growled, his eyes dark.“Well, maybe you should get one because you’re kind of a sour assho—”“Dante! Language!” Eva admonished.“He needs to lighten up!” Dante jerked a thumb at his brother.Vergil rolled his eyes.  “Arguing with you like this has no meaning.”“Maybe but it’s too fun to stop.”  Dante smacked his brother’s shoulder.“This reminds me.”  Sparda sliced into his steak with perfect etiquette.  “You boys need the ‘Talk.’”  He bounced his eyebrows impishly.“Darling, not at the dinner table,” Eva objected, shocked.Blush bloomed in Vergil’s face.Dante cocked an eyebrow, eyes wide.  “We know how it works, Dad.”  He kept his head down, tapping his fork.“I think Dante needs more than a ‘talk’ regarding that matter.”  Vergil smirked vengefully.  “Perhaps he should take an entire class.”Recommended for ages 18+ for occasional strong language and sexual content
Relationships: Dante & Eva & Vergil (Devil May Cry), Dante & Eva (Devil May Cry), Dante & Sparda & Vergil (Devil May Cry), Dante & Sparda (Devil May Cry), Dante & Vergil (Devil May Cry), Eva & Vergil (Devil May Cry), Eva/Sparda (Devil May Cry), Nero's Mother/Vergil (Devil May Cry)
Comments: 55
Kudos: 32





	1. September - Destiny Descends (Mission 1)

**Author's Note:**

> In this alternate universe, the twins are on the brink of turning 18, seniors at a preppy high school, but still enjoy driving each other batty. Still in full possession of their inherited power, they continue to learn how to bear the blood of their legendary father while Sparda keeps them ignorant of the devils that await awakening within them. The family still has a few secrets and a few dangers lurking in the shadows. All the while, Destiny has a bombshell planned for Vergil during his senior year, and Dante will learn some heroic maturity along the way without sacrificing his adorable flirty personality. This is the closest thing to "normal" these boys will ever get, and it's gonna be a fun and feelsy ride! 😁😉 My official artist Chiharu-chin did this art piece for this story! I ❤️ it!  
>   
> These missions are much longer than my normal mission length, so I cannot be sure how often I will post a new one. My goal is a mission a month, but life is unpredictable so please bear with me! 🙏🏻 Please check my AO3 profile for upcoming release dates for missions and new works! Thank you for reading! 😊🙏🏻

Vergil swirled honey into his Earl Grey tea as he reread his summer AP English project: an analysis of William Blake’s _Auguries of Innocence_. It was his favorite poem. He expected no lower than an A. Sipping his tea, he grinned complacently over his hard work. At this rate, graduating with honors was guaranteed. Valedictorian, a given. Every university would be begging for his attendance.  


“Mornin’!” Dante slapped his brother on the back in greeting.  


Dark tea sloshed over the side of Vergil’s cup and splattered his homework.  


“Fool!” he snarled, dropping off the bar stool.  


“Oh, whoops.” Dante smirked, not at all apologetic.  


Sighing, Vergil took a dish towel and blotted his ruined essay. Recovery was impossible. He would need to reprint the entire 15 page work.  


“Good morning, sweetheart.” Eva paused in making coffee to kiss her son’s cheek.  


Dante smiled. “Hey, Mom.” He yanked open the towering fridge. “What do we got?”  


“Civilized fare.” Vergil refilled his teacup.  


Dante snorted. “‘Civilized fare?’ Why do you talk like you’re from the Renaissance or something?”  


Vergil bounced a vain eyebrow. “I’ll take that as a compliment. I read. Unlike some.”  


“I read!” Dante protested, pouring himself a glass of orange juice.  


“Porn is not reading,” Vergil noted incisively.  


“Dante!” Eva exclaimed, dropping the sugar spoon.  


“I don’t read porn, Mom, I promise!” Dante insisted.  


Vergil rolled his eyes. “Or whatever you call those swimsuit magazines.”  


Dante slammed the juice carton down onto the counter. “They’re called swimsuit magazines, smartass!”  


“Language, Dante!” Eva scolded.  


“Objectifying women.” Vergil’s lip curled in disgust. “Foolishness, Dante. Foolishness.”  


“Apparently they don’t mind if they’re modeling their ass—”  


“Dante!” Eva scolded, her voice sharper.  


“I was gonna say assets!”  


“Enough,” she chided, her mouth tight.  


“Sorry, Mom.” He avoided her steely gaze, but narrowed his eyes at his older twin, an angry huff burning in his throat.  


Vergil grinned over the rim of his teacup and sipped.  


Eva glanced at the clock. “Don’t you boys have preliminary quizzes today? You need to hurry.”  


“I’ll leave immediately,” Vergil announced. He glared at Dante. “I need to reprint my essay before first period.” He checked his tie, smoothed the lapels of his school uniform, and snatched up his car keys. “See you at school, Dante.”  


“Have a lovely day, sweetheart.” Eva kissed Vergil’s cheek. “Good luck!”  


“Thank you, Mother,” he replied, and departed the kitchen. The sound of the front door opening and closing soon followed.  


“Poor Verge,” Dante sighed, dropping a piece of bread into the toaster. “He needs to get a girl.”  


Vergil’s Corvette roared to life. He revved it a few times, and then the luxurious thunder faded as he drove away.  


“He wants to excel in school.” Eva blew gently across her cup of coffee. “That’s nothing to scoff at. You should put more attention into your studies, Dante.”  


“Eh.” He shrugged. “I get bored.”  


“Dante, this is your future.”  


He stared down into his orange juice, thinking. “Maybe it’s not.”  


“You will not drop out,” she stated firmly. “We will not have this discussion again.”  


“But I don’t even want to go to college!” he protested. “So what’s the point?”  


“Education is important. You know that.” She took a sip of coffee to calm herself. “Don’t make me get your father involved.”  


Dante leaned his head back and sighed. “I’d rather just, I don’t know…kill demons for a living.”  


“That is a dangerous and lonely business, sweetie,” she cautioned.  


“Maybe, but it sounds exciting at least, unlike my life now.” He swigged the last of his juice as if it were whiskey, took his motorcycle keys from the pocket of his uniform blazer, and headed for the door.  


“Oh, sweetie, your toast?” Eva called after him.  


“I’m not hungry anymore,” he replied flatly. He didn’t say goodbye.  


The huge house fell into an ominous silence.  


Eva set down her coffee and closed her eyes, sighing. Her little darling devils were growing up too fast. So alike they were, and yet so different.  


Do I really understand either of them?  


“Everything all right, my love?”  


Sparda came into the kitchen wearing nothing but drawstring pajama pants. Even in such casual attire he bore himself with palpable, magisterial poise. The weight of his aura reflected his mood, and this morning Eva felt it like a fine wisp of warm cloud. His hair was humorously tousled. Apparently he had bound it in a hasty tail before actually combing it. Their sons’ hair, too, was always mussed in the morning. Crazy white shrubberies atop their heads that reminded her of when they were such little lads.  


“Oh, those boys,” she sighed.  


He smiled. “Oh, those boys.” His refined, European-esque accent tickled her sacred spaces. He kissed her, tender and deep. “Good morning.”  


She smiled back, but it was troubled. “I’m worried about them.”  


“They’re seventeen.” He helped himself to Dante’s forsaken toast. “They’re half demon and they’re brothers.” He shrugged. “It’s a perfect storm, really.”  


“Dante wants to hunt demons once high school is done.”  


Sparda stopped slathering butter on the toast and sighed.  


She touched his arm. “I don’t want that for him.”  


Sparda took several moments to consider his next words. “He could handle it. They both could, but only after their devils have triggered.”  


Eva parted her lips, astonished. “You would condone that life for them? After everything you’ve been through? You above all know how dangerous it is!”  


“And my job would be a lot easier if I had help.” He spoke firmly, but in love.  


She frowned and moved away from him.  


His broad shoulders slumped. “Eva…”  


She returned the orange juice to the fridge and placed Vergil’s teacup in the sink, her movements sharp, frustrated. It was not the first time they had discussed their sons’ futures and disagreed.  
Sparda caught her hand. “Listen to me, my love. It’s Dante’s choice. If he wants to become a devil hunter I will not stop him. It’s important to be happy in one’s work.”  


“Happy? By facing death every day?” She looked up at him, her eyes pleading.  


“I am a warrior, Eva. Our sons are warriors. I have seen it since their first steps.”  


She closed her eyes, cringing beneath the truth her husband spoke. “They’re children.”  


He gathered her hand in both of his and spoke far gentler than anyone could ever believe a demon could. “Not for much longer. Their demonic power is growing. I see it. I feel it. I suspect their devils will trigger soon. They may only be half demon, but it is an incredibly concentrated half.” He lifted her chin. Their eyes met. “They are the sons of Sparda, the legendary dark knight, savior of mankind.” He winked. “Your little seeds are growing very strong.”  


A long, heavy breath escaped Eva, and she slipped her arms around his waist. He held her close and they savored the private moment in silence and warmth.  


“I know they will grow strong,” she murmured, “but they’re still my babies.”  


“I know,” Sparda soothed, and kissed her hair. “Trust them. They’ll keep each other on the right path.”

* * *

“You were speeding again, weren’t you?” Vergil called out. Dante had just pulled into the parking space next to his brother only seconds after he’d arrived.  


Dante dismounted his vermillion Kawasaki bike. “Eh, maybe a little.” His voice was muffled inside his helmet.  


Vergil stepped out of his cobalt Corvette, chin raised as if motorcycles were unworthy. “You better not flunk this year. Not when we’re so close to the end.”  


Dante removed his helmet and shook out his hair. “Does that mean I get to look over your shoulder during exams again?”  


Vergil adjusted his messenger bag across his shoulder and turned toward campus. The Corvette beeped twice. Locked.  


The devil-blooded boys strolled onto campus side by side.  


Grey Grove High was a sprawling campus of old brick buildings and older statuary of various academic paragons. The grass was always bright and manicured. The cafeteria was a medieval banquet hall of organic bliss catering to every possible dietary restriction. Half of the professors were overdue for retirement, but the other half exuded a contagious enthusiasm for the subjects they taught. Contagious at least for those who endeavored to achieve respectable grades. All students wore modest uniforms boasting the school’s colors: black, white, and grey. Ties, collars, vests, and slacks. Ties, collars, blouses, and skirts. The rules were only strict for those who preferred to loosen their ties, arrive late, and copy another student’s homework.  


“Oh, hey, can I copy your history homework really quick?” Dante asked Vergil, tugging on his tie.  


“It’s not that difficult.” Vergil gave his brother an annoyed side-eye. “If you put any amount of effort into it you could finish in ten minutes on your own.”  


Dante grinned like a pop star. “Yeah, but you know that’s not how I roll.”  


Vergil sighed and spun the dial on his locker. He retrieved the requested assignment out of a binder and held it out to Dante.  


“You’re the best brother in the world.” Dante clapped Vergil on the shoulder.  


“Remember that the next time I beat you in sword drills.” Vergil grinned like an assassin.  


“What? Sorry, can’t hear ya, gotta focus.” Dante never locked his locker. He flung it open and started scribbling.  


Vergil was convinced that the muscles around his eyes and brows were stronger because of all the eye-rolling Dante instigated. “Just hurry up and don’t wrinkle it.”  


“Sure, whatever.” Dante kept scribbling. His handwriting was atrocious, little more than the scratch marks of a prehistoric barbarian.  


Vergil glanced at the giant brass clock. It was a thirty-minute commute from Redgrave City, but he still had ten minutes before class started. Not as punctual as he would like.  


“There are only twelve questions,” he grumbled. “What’s taking you so long?”  


“I had to pick which ones I’d answer differently!” Dante threw his pen into his locker and returned Vergil’s assignment. “Can’t make our homework look exactly the same, you know.”  


“At least you’re smart enough to realize that much.” Vergil retrieved his trigonometry book and rearranged a few papers.  


Something behind them caught Dante’s eye. “Hey, pretty lady. Need some help?” He swaggered away.  


Vergil ignored him.  


“Oh! Yes, please! I need to find Room 307,” answered a female student.  


“Let me see.” Dante perused her campus map. He took too long doing it.  


“I’m so sorry.” The girl radiated sincerity. “I’m new and I couldn’t come to orientation. I don’t want to make you late for class.”  


“No, no! It’s fine,” Dante quickly assured her. “I just don’t have many classes on that side of campus.”  


Vergil shut his locker. “Pestering the ladies, Dante?” He came beside his brother and met the lost student’s eyes. They were intelligent, warm, and colored like melted caramel. One of her eyes was more golden than the other. The strained, stern muscles in Vergil’s face relaxed.  


Dante smacked Vergil in the shoulder. “She needs to find this room.” He pointed at the map.  


Vergil blinked and redirected his attention. “Give that to me.” He studied the map for a minute. “Please excuse my brother. He has a terrible sense of direction.”  


Dante offered a sarcastic smile. “He always knows how to make me feel good about myself.”  


The girl laughed. “I really appreciate you both taking the time to help me.”  


Vergil glanced at her. Her smile, radiant and honest, caught him unawares. He cleared his throat. “This room?” He tapped the map.  


She nodded.  


“I have first period right across the way. I’ll escort you if you like,” he offered.  


Her face glowed with appreciation. “That would be perfect, thank you very much! I’m Miranda.” There was a slight roll in her ‘R.’ She held out her hand to Vergil.  


He took it. “Vergil.” Her hand was soft and warm, but he felt strength, too. Interesting. “This is my brother Dante.”  


Miranda gasped, excited. “Like _Dante’s Inferno_? _The Divine Comedy_? That Virgil and Dante?”  


“Well, my name is spelled with an ‘e,’ but yes,” Vergil clarified. “It’s our mother’s favorite epic poem.”  


“I’m the handsome and daring warrior,” Dante boasted, a hand on his chest. He jerked his thumb at Vergil. “He’s the informative ghost, which works nicely because he’s a bookworm and I’m the lady’s man.”  


“I love that poem too!” Miranda’s eyes were bright with excitement. “But Dante never would have made it out of the inferno without Virgil, and Dante was a poet too, not a warrior. That’s only in that strange video game.”  


Vergil cocked an eyebrow, thoroughly impressed.  


“It’s nice to meet both of you.” She offered a slight bow of her head.  


“Hey, I could show you around the—”  


“Foolishness, Dante,” Vergil intervened. He nodded at their new acquaintance. “Follow me, Miranda.”  


“Behave yourself, Verge,” Dante teased, winking.  


Vergil scowled. “I’m showing the lady to her classroom.”  


“Dante!” exclaimed three girls at once.  


Slapping on his best Casanova smile, Dante turned and welcomed his female following. “Good morning, babes! Are we ready for water polo?”  


They giggled. Their lips were glossy and pink and their skirts were hitched up far enough to break protocol twice. Dante had chosen water polo as his elective sport only because it was co-ed.  


Vergil scowled in disapproval, muttering, “Pathetic.”  


Dante draped his arms across the shoulders of his squeaky fangirls. They escorted him to the pools, tittering like chipmunks in heat.  


“My apologies, Miranda,” Vergil offered, embarrassed yet again by his brother’s obscene lack of manners. He led them onward.  


“I wish I had siblings,” she mused, keeping in step with him. Her hair was thick, coffee-colored waves that reached her waist. Vergil caught himself wondering if it was as soft as it looked. “Sounds like fun. Your brother is rather comical.”  


Vergil sighed. “His sense of humor baffles me.”  


Miranda smiled. “So how long have you been at this school?”  


“All four years.” He guided her around a corner and down an ivy-latticed cloister. “Did you just move here?”  


“Yes.” She hesitated, curling her fingers against the textbooks she held to her breast. Quietly, as if it were scandalous information, she added, “From Fortuna.”  


Fortuna. An isolated community on an isolated island riddled with ruins and a sketchy religious group. According to his father, the city had suffered several demonic attacks in the last few months. Overwhelming odds. Every time Sparda interfered on their behalf, their zealous worship of him only increased. Vergil was not sure if his father supported their devotion or spurned it. Sparda did not speak of Fortuna often.  


“I’m a refugee,” she explained. “My papa is part of their knighthood, but they repositioned him here since he’s one of their best trainers and they didn’t want to lose him.”  


“I see.” Vergil wasn’t sure what to say. He sensed that it was a delicate subject. “I’ve heard it’s gotten rather chaotic, but it’s fortunate you were able to find sanctuary.”  


She nodded. “The Order of the Sword are too few. They have beseeched Lord Sparda to return to Fortuna and reside permanently in Fortuna Castle.”  


A painful jab of panic struck Vergil in the chest. Did Sparda know of Fortuna’s wishes? Did he plan to return? Surely, he would have told his family of any such decisions. Vergil decided it was better not to jump to any conclusions. Perhaps he would speak to his father on the matter later.  


“Here we are.” He gestured at the door to classroom 307.  


“Thank you so much, Vergil.” She dipped her head.  


“It was a pleasure.”  


She smelled sweet and exotic like plumeria petals on ocean waves.  


Miranda smiled. “Indeed it was.”  


The bell rang.  


“Welcome to Grey Grove, Miranda.” He offered a tilt of his head, and then strode across the hall to trigonometry class.  


Miranda smiled after him, admiring his slicked-back silken hair.  


White hair.

* * *

“So?” Dante hustled up to his brother and smacked him in the arm.  


Vergil frowned, confused. “So what?”  


Dante bounced his eyebrows. “Did you have fun with the new girl?” He leaned against the lockers as his brother exchanged textbooks.  


Vergil growled, frustrated. “Do you think of nothing else? We went to class.”  


“Did she _thank_ you properly?” Dante’s grin was rather salacious.  


Vergil glowered at him. “You’re a pig.”  


Dante spread his arms, indignant. “I was talking about a kiss!”  


“We met an hour ago!”  


“So?”  


“You have absolutely no concept of being a gentleman, do you?”  


Dante shrugged. “The ladies don’t complain.”  


“You made Miranda uncomfortable.”  


“No, I didn’t. She laughed and shook my hand.” He seemed especially keen on the latter.  


“Because she’s polite and was forced to put up with your incessant foolishness.”  


Dante held up his hands, placating. “Whoa, pump your brakes, bro—”  


“And I still need to reprint my essay, no thanks to you.” Heat waves rippled along Vergil’s shoulders.  


“Hey—!”  


“She asked me to show her where to find the bathroom.”  


Dante cocked an eyebrow. “Uh…okay…”  


Vergil clenched a fist. “I’m going to be late for my violin lesson now!”  


“So you’re mad at the new girl?”  


“No!” Vergil quickly rebutted.  


“You sound angry—”  


“I’m not angry!” Vergil’s face warmed.  


Dante leaned closer and peered at his brother’s schedule, which was taped neatly to the inside of his locker door. “You have poetry next, not violin, dumbass.”  


“Shut up.” Vergil rummaged through books and spare school supplies. His frown deepened, and then he paused in his busy rifling. “She smells nice.” He muttered it, unable to fathom why he would remember such a thing.  


Dante’s mouth dropped open.  


Vergil slammed his locker closed and started down the hall. “I need to go.” He called over his shoulder, “Get to class and don’t fail, Dante!”  


Dante watched his brother leave, wide-eyed and stunned.  


Vergil was almost late for poetry class. He slipped in and scanned the small amphitheater for a seat.  


His and Miranda’s gazes met.  


She sat at the nearby window, caught his eye, and smiled at him. The morning sunshine shone upon her hair, illuminating its lovely chocolate-brown color. She waved at him.  


He waved back, but forgot to return the smile.  


The professor raised one of her sharply angled eyebrows at him. “Vergil? Take a seat, please.”  


Scarlet clouds erupted in his cheeks. He slid into a desk near the door and ran a hand through his hair.  


Miranda’s delightful scent distracted him all throughout the hour, resulting in only half a page of notes on Tennyson’s _Lotus Eaters_.  


_What?_  


He never wrote less than five pages back to back! He chanced a stealthy glance at Miranda. She was diligently taking notes. The sun kissed her ivory cheek, giving her skin a soft glow.  


Vergil swallowed and felt a fresh rush of red surge up his neck.  


The bell rang and the professor instructed them to leave their summer projects on her desk as they left.  


Vergil had no choice but to surrender his tea-stained essay.  


Upon dropping it onto the professor’s desk, he added a bit of demon dash to his gait and practically fled the classroom.

* * *

Sparda stood at the back wall of the vast empty chamber below the house. The cold underground silence coiled about his tall, broad frame like a subservient caress. He frowned, concentrating, as he twirled a long metal tool between two fingers.  


A cluster of especially intricate sigils needed touchups, but it had been three centuries since he last studied its design. He could not afford to retrace it incorrectly. The tracing tool, crafted out of steel mined in the underworld, was older than he, and the nib was sharp enough to slice diamonds like deli meat. Similar sigils and formulae and ancient equations ornamented every inch of the walls, floor, and ceiling as if they were a crazed mathematician’s canvas. Sparda was not exactly an artist or a mathematician, and it had taken many alchemists over the span of two thousand years to ensure the concealment of the only hell gate not yet known to the public circles of the underworld.  


Not yet known to Mundus.  


Sparda rubbed at his forehead. Perhaps another alchemist was needed now.  


“Tea is ready for you, my love,” Eva called down the hollow staircase.  


He was too absorbed in his work to respond.  


“Sparda?” Eva called again. Still no answer. She descended the stairs and found her husband poring over his last vital mission: preserving and hiding the secret hell gate.  


“You should rest,” she told him softly, joining him at the massive crest that girdled the hell gate’s lock.  


“The upkeep is becoming more difficult,” he grumbled. “So many of these wear away years before I realize.”  


Eva stroked his arm. “Step away. Refresh yourself. It will help.”  


He sighed. “You’re probably right.”  


They ascended out of the sub-level and sat beside each other on the couch in the parlor. The afternoon was peaceful, the autumn leaves stirring outside the French windows. A lovely tea service was laid out with homemade raspberry scones.  


As Eva poured tea for her weary husband, Sparda leaned on his knees and rubbed at his face.  


“I’m getting too old for this,” he groaned.  


Eva smiled and offered the cup to him. “Yet you don’t look a day over thirty-five.”  


He lifted his head, gave her a tired smile, and nodded in thanks as he took the tea. Earl Grey. His favorite. Vergil’s too.  


Eva let the relaxing warmth of the tea settle into Sparda’s bones before she ventured to breach a rather sensitive concern.  


“Vergil could help you with the gate.”  


Sparda stopped mid-sip, pursed his lips, and thought a while. “I’ve told you, Eva. I will not involve either of our sons in that dark business until I feel they are powerful enough.”  


“But you clearly need help,” she gently argued, “and Vergil is at the top of his class in ancient alchemical writings. I’m not saying let him learn how to open the gate, just let him help you keep it sealed.”  


Sparda stood up from the couch, abandoning his tea, and strode to the window. Faint purple heat waves rippled atop his broad shoulders.  


“They’re almost eighteen,” Eva continued cautiously. “They have a right to know.”  


“Know what? That a furious and powerful demon lord wants them and their family dead?” His words bled frustration. “They don’t need that stress right now. It’s my job to protect you and them.”  


“Sweetheart, they will figure it out on their own otherwise. Especially Vergil. You know how perceptive he is.”  


Sparda folded his arms against his chest. “I worry that his obsession with being best in school may carry over to other things once his devil triggers.”  


“We can worry about that once it happens, but for now don’t you think they should be aware of what’s hidden beneath their very bedrooms?” She was similarly concerned about Vergil, but one thing at a time or her motherly instincts would drive her mad with distress.  


“I don’t want to discuss this any further, Eva,” Sparda hedged, his voice tight.  


She joined him at the window, her temper flaring. “Stop lying to our children!”  


Sparda’s head snapped toward her, his ice-blue eyes wide with astonishment. “Lying?”  


“Secrets are the same as lies.”  


He slapped a hand to his chest. “I am protecting our children by keeping the gate hidden!”  


“And if Mundus were to return and attack our home?”  


“I’ll slaughter the bastard, end of story,” Sparda growled, the purple flames thickening across his shoulders.  


Eva closed her eyes and shook her head, mustering a new volley of reason. “If our sons don’t know of Mundus or the gate, and the worst should happen, they could be killed.”  


Frustration was building inside Sparda, coals igniting. “You don’t want them hunting devils but you _do_ want them dragged into what is my mess? My responsibility? My horrifying past?”  


“Please my love—”  


“Eva, I know what I’m doing.” He offered no sign of capitulation.  


“What if their devils don’t trigger for another few years? What if Mundus were to attack tonight? You said yourself their power is growing. Tell them. They need to be prepared!”  


“Enough!” Sparda bellowed. The command carried the deep, dark roar of his devil and it shook the entire house.  


Eva gasped, stepping back from her husband, tears stinging her eyes. Sparda rarely fell to angry domestic outbursts, but Eva understood that beneath the wrath there was love. He loved her. He loved his boys. She knew it like she knew fire burned. Yet, this secret could imperil them all.  


Sparda sighed and his demonic aura faded. “I’m sorry, Eva.”  


She looped her arms around one of his. “I know you wish to keep them safe, but the risk is too great to keep them in the dark.”  


He frowned out the window, brooding. Minutes crumbled away. Eva slipped an arm around his waist, pressing herself against him.  


“Vergil would be honored to be part of your work, my love,” she whispered, fondling his long white tail of hair.  


“I had hoped to put that work behind me when I sealed away the underworld.” He sighed roughly. “Our boys are strong, but not yet strong enough.”  


“Perhaps assisting with the gate will make them stronger.” She plucked an edge of his shirt free.  


He smiled. “Trying a different tactic against me, hm?” He leaned toward her and their noses touched.  


She smiled, flirting. “It’s worked before.”  


“You know me too well,” he whispered, and kissed her waiting lips.  


It escalated quickly, as it usually did. Sparda drew her from the gaping window panes and bumped her against the wall. When she needed breath, he scattered burning kisses upon her throat. Her well-practiced fingers unbuckled his belt. The clasp and buttons beneath it were nothing.  


Sparda, completely unashamed, released a loud, eager groan to be let loose. He pulled her long, velvet gown up to her hips, panting as if he’d slain a thousand devils. He slid her up the wall.  


As Eva gasped in pleasure, the dark knight’s demon wings sprouted from his back. Heat waves rippled off their edges. The lethal claws at their tips gouged into the wall, digging deeper and harder.  


In the noise of their love, they failed to hear a certain Corvette and Kawasaki roar into the driveway.

* * *

As Dante and Vergil approached the front door, a tremor jostled the foundation of their house. Dante shoved the key in the lock and they hustled inside, ready to throw power at whatever intruder might be awaiting. Further in, they heard their mother’s desperate cries.  


The Rebellion and the Yamato leaned against the wall near the door, side by side. Dante and Vergil took up their devil arms and bolted for the parlor, rage boiling, determined to slay their mother’s molester.  


Vergil skidded to an abrupt halt. Dante smacked into his back. Both of them stood dumbstruck, mouths agape, their swords dangling at their sides. Dante’s eyes widened to the size of extra-large pizzas. Vergil’s face felt hotter than Berial having a temper tantrum.  


Their father grunted like a beast, the noise two-toned with the deep guttural snarl of his demon. Their mother’s head was tilted back and she shrieked like a conquered nymph. She opened her eyes and her gaze fell upon her shocked sons.  


“Sparda, stop!” she gasped, horrified. “The boys!”  


“What!” he growled. His wings detached from the wall and formed a barrier around them, obscuring them as they took a moment to rearrange themselves.  


“I need to bleach my eyeballs,” Dante muttered.  


Vergil crinkled his nose and nodded.  


Their father’s wings vanished in a thick cloud of black and purple smoke and he turned to greet his sons. “Ah, boys, welcome home. How was school today?” His usually slicked-back hair was only partially in place, a few strands hanging over his forehead. Eva pulled all of her tangled hair to one side. Her gown was terribly wrinkled.  


“Uh…fine,” Dante replied, slowly forming the words.  


“Good, good.” Sparda was still a bit out of breath. “Your mother and I were just…having a discussion.” He cleared his throat.  


A huge pause of awkward silence dominated the parlor.  


“Um...Verge, how about some Mortal Kombat?” Dante asked his brother.  


Vergil finally remembered how to use his tongue. “Gratuitous violence, yes please.”  


Both of them abruptly turned and ascended one of the staircases, their pace hastening with every step. They nearly tripped over each other.  


Once they’d gone, Sparda ran a hand through his hair, rolled his eyes, and groaned in humiliation. Eva pressed her hands to her cheeks.  


“I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life.” Her face burned like a fever. “We’ve terrified them.”  


Sparda nervously cleaned his monocle on a corner of his shirt. “I certainly did not plan on that happening.”  


“Should we talk to them?”  


He rubbed the back of his neck. “Let the shock wear off first.”  


She sighed. “If it wears off at all.”

* * *

“The gore in this game is spectacular,” Vergil mused as he and Dante slashed and stomped their way through another round of Mortal Kombat. 

Posters of violent video games, Mecha anime, samurai films, and heavy metal bands plastered their gaming room like wallpaper. A fully stocked fridge stood in one blue-lit corner and an eighty-inch plasma TV occupied the majority of one entire wall. The finest quality surround-sound speakers provided an intense battle arena experience.  


“Argh! Quit jumping on my head!” Dante griped, lifting the controller as if that would help his character escape Vergil’s ruthless gameplay style. “That’s cheating!”  


“No, you’re just pathetic.” Vergil grinned wickedly. “Too slow. Die!”  


The announcer declared the round over.  


Dante tossed the controller on the floor. “You’re too good at this game.”  


Vergil chuckled. “How about another round?”  


Dante polished off his soda and crushed the can in one fist. “Don’t you have thirty pounds of homework to do?”  


Vergil shrugged a shoulder. “I can finish it in an hour.”  


Dante reclined across the couch, threw his feet up onto the armrest, arms behind his head, and stared up at the ceiling. “I’m never sitting in the parlor ever again.”  


Vergil stared blankly at the “character select” screen. “Neither am I.”

* * *

The dining room was utterly and painfully quiet except for the occasional clinking of silverware on plates. Dante had an elbow on the table, chin in his hand, as he poked the pieces of tender steak on his plate. He chanced a glance at his family. His eyes met his mother’s and he quickly looked away. Vergil kept scowling at his zucchini, twirling his fork in his fingers.  


Sparda and Eva looked at one another. Eva motioned to their sons with a slide of her eyes. Her husband sighed, still embarrassed about earlier that afternoon.  


He cleared his throat. “So. Boys. How was school today?”  


Dante seized the opportunity. He never let one slide. “Verge has a girlfriend.”  


Vergil smacked his fork down onto his plate and groaned, “I do not.”  


Dante snorted, trying not to laugh like a hyena. Vergil glared at his brother and kicked him in the ankle. Dante didn’t care.  


“Oh?” Sparda said, his eyes brightening. His grin was the teasing kind he had passed on to his younger son. “Do tell!”  


“I don’t have a girlfriend,” Vergil growled, his eyes dark.  


“Well, maybe you should get one because you’re kind of a sour assho—”  


“Dante! Language!” Eva admonished.  


“He needs to lighten up!” Dante jerked a thumb at his brother.  


Vergil rolled his eyes. “Arguing with you like this has no meaning.”  


“Maybe, but it’s too fun to stop.” Dante smacked his brother’s shoulder.  


“This reminds me.” Sparda sliced into his steak with perfect etiquette. “You boys need the ‘Talk.’” He bounced his eyebrows impishly.  


“Darling, not at the dinner table,” Eva objected, shocked.  


Blush bloomed in Vergil’s face.  


Dante cocked an eyebrow, eyes wide. “We know how it works, Dad.” He kept his head down, tapping his fork.  


“I think Dante needs more than a ‘talk’ regarding that matter.” Vergil smirked vengefully. “Perhaps he should take an entire class.”  


“Wha—?”  


“He has quite the female following at school,” Vergil continued.  


“It never goes anywhere!” Dante protested.  


“Someone sounds quite defensive.” Vergil’s grin widened.  


“Boys, enough,” Eva admonished.  


Dante pointed his fork at his brother. “You sounded pretty damn defensive, too, smartass!”  


“At least I treat ladies with respect!” Vergil retorted.  


“I do not disrespect girls!” Dante snapped.  


“Boys—” Eva tried again, her frustration growing.  


“You and your vulgar magazines!” Vergil sneered.  


Crimson flames sprouted atop Dante’s shoulders. “At least I’m not ashamed of having urges!”  


Vergil crossed his arms, snorting. “Those urges keep me locked out of the bathroom for hours.”  


Dante got in his brother’s face. “Fuck a girl or fuck yourself, Verge, just get some release already and quit being a little shit—!”  


“Enough!” Sparda roared, standing to his feet.  


The twins immediately fell silent, but they kept glaring at one another.  


Eva rubbed at her temples, letting out a sigh.  


“Blasted devils below, boys, this is pathetic!” their father raged, yanking the monocle from his eye. “You’re almost eighteen years old, yet you persist in this childish bickering!” Purple flame rippled atop his shoulders.  


Vergil and Dante dropped their heads and stared at their plates. The dining room was filled with the pounding of the grandfather clock. Vergil clenched his fists atop his thighs. Dante glared at the half-eaten pile of rice on his plate like it meant to murder him.  


The quiet grew heavy and awkward and hot. Sparda remained standing over his errant children, his gaze never straying from them. The force of their powerful father’s glare was like a bullet train. The dark knight’s demonic energy pulsed in the air, tainting the light of the room deep purple.  


At long last, Sparda sighed, calmer. “Upstairs.”  


Dante and Vergil, without another breath of dissent, rose from the dining table and obeyed. When they’d gone, Sparda slumped back into his chair and leaned an elbow on the armrest.  


“I know siblings fight, but this is like a rivalry.” Exasperated, he rubbed at his eyes. “Are they keeping score?”  


Eva sighed. “They have so much power but no adequate outlet for it.”  


Sparda leaned both elbows on the table and put his face in his hands, tired and annoyed. “Hormones are probably harder for them than for normal human boys, too. I don’t like Dante looking at those magazines, but it’s better than… _alternatives_.”  


“I don’t think either of them are actually…” Eva trailed off, blushing a little.  


A mischievous smile settled on Sparda’s mouth. A dimple appeared. “They’re handsome boys, taking after their father. Heartbreakers to be sure.”  


Eva rolled her eyes. “My darling devil, what an ego you have.”  


“Well, no time like the present.” Sparda rose. “Our boys must go forth fully educated in matters involving the gentler sex.”  


The blush in Eva’s cheeks brightened. “Darling, perhaps not tonight?”  


“The topic has been broached, my love.” He fit his monocle to his eye. “I prefer to face conflict in the moment it reveals itself. Mustn’t let it fester.”  


His boys were occupied in their gaming room. Vergil was playing Campaign Mode in Mortal Kombat. Dante lounged on the couch, a scandalous magazine in his hands.  


“Boys?” Sparda greeted, clearing his throat.  


Vergil bent his brows, concentrating harder on the game. Dante took a quick peek at his father over his magazine, and then hid behind it again.  


“It’s high time to lay down the rules.” Sparda stepped further into the room. A few soda cans had missed the trash, which was full to overflowing with snack wrappers. His disciplinary gaze fell upon Dante. “Women are to be respected.” He sounded neither harsh nor disapproving.  


Dante winced, his hands crinkling the edges of the magazine. Vergil started a new round of Mortal Kombat. Sparda snatched the magazine out of Dante’s hands.  


“Dad!” Dante whined.  


“It’s a filthy habit, Dante,” Vergil berated, smashing buttons on the game controller. “I think your record time in the bathroom is three hours.”  


“Fuck you, Vergil—!”  


“Silence!” Sparda roared. “Vergil, turn off the game. Now.”  


Vergil obeyed and took the massive easy chair.  


“This conversation is long overdue,” the dark knight continued. He tossed the magazine at the trash bin and folded his hands behind his back. “There comes a time when the female mystique descends upon the mind of man—and demon—and savages his very reason, drives shivers through his every limb—”  


“Dad, no, please!” Dante tried, slapping his hands over his eyes, fighting images of his parents that afternoon.  


Vergil crossed his arms and pursed his lips, staring at the floor, his ears burning red hot.  


“A man yearns to sheathe his mighty sword in the burning embrace of one extraordinary woman he finds to be the pinnacle, the apex, the sweet summit of pleasure—”  


Vergil’s stomach clenched. He crossed his legs. “Father, you needn’t—”  


“Do not interrupt me again, boy,” Sparda scolded.  


Vergil swallowed. It felt like choking.  


Dante rolled his eyes and groaned. “We took sex ed, Dad.”  


“This stinging urge,” Sparda continued, beginning to pace between his sons, “to impale such delectable delights may be overwhelming. I had my struggles when I was your age.” He chuckled, deep and devious. “The scent of her hair, the glimmer upon her lips, those lush curves ripe for the taking—”  


“Dad!”  


“Father!”  


Sparda blinked, startled, his monocle falling. “Forgive me, boys, I was lost in the past. Now. It is imperative that the impaling of love be reserved for the sacred bond of marriage, the vow of eternal cleaving. I will not have my boys bounding about, rutting like wild dogs with any loose girl.” His dour gaze settled on the younger of his twin sons.  


Dante avoided his father’s silent disapproval, turning his face away. Blush creeped into his cheeks. “I don’t do that,” he muttered, indignant.  


Sparda smiled. “I know.”  


Dante nervously looked up at his looming father and found reassurance.  


“Do you both understand?”  


Both boys quickly nodded and simultaneously said, “Yes, sir.”  


Vergil kept his eyes on the floor. The scent of plumeria and sea salt suddenly swirled through his senses. He narrowed his eyes, confused, saying not a word.  


Why did the new girl at school instantly come to mind?


	2. October - Reluctance and Revelation (Mission 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> EXCERPT:
> 
> [Dante] leaned in close and uttered, “You like the new girl, don’t you?”  
> Vergil wrenched his shoulder away. “Tch! No!” He crossed his arms and curled his lip into a defensive pout. “I have absolutely no interest in any girl whatsoever!”  
> Dante sniggered behind one fist. Vergil’s cheekbones may as well have been painted hot night-club pink. “You’re hilarious.”  
> “Shut up,” Vergil muttered, his voice like gravel.  
> “So she smells nice…” Dante held up one finger.  
> Vergil shrugged, bobbing one eyebrow in feigned neutrality.  
> “She’s obviously smart…” Another finger.  
> Vergil looked away, swallowing hard enough that his throat starkly bobbed.  
> Dante grinned, sticking his tongue out between his teeth. “She’s _pretty_.”  
> Vergil’s nose crinkled as if he had just bit into a lemon. “Pointless.”  
> “I’m more observant than you think I am.” Dante slapped his brother on the back and pointed a finger-gun at him. “You got good taste.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mission 3 is ALMOST DONE 😁😊 Please check my AO3 profile for upcoming releases! 😊 Thank you for reading! 😄 My official artist, Chiharu-chin, did another piece of art, specially for this mission! SO CUTE! ❤️💙  
> 

It was a particularly chilly Autumn day.Bundled in her favorite crimson sweater, Miranda huddled over her mocha and stared down at her five-page essay atop her knees.Sitting on a bench beside the fountain in the courtyard was her favorite place to think and study.She sighed.Was her essay good enough?Her father refused to read it over, brusquely reminding her that being a good student was an _obligation_ and that he had no reason to offer any sort of help or encouragement.

Miranda bit her lip, her heart racing as she recalled his stinging words last night.

“Do not shame me, Miranda, or I’ll yank you out of school altogether.Don’t waste my money.”

Taking another sip of her mocha, she sent a little prayer to Sparda. _I just want to do well._

Vergil had a free period, but instead of squandering the time on studying for a quiz he was sure to ace, he ambled out into the vast courtyard to enjoy the crisp breeze.The line at the refreshment stand was short, so he bought a black coffee.Wandering down the cobbled path, cerulean scarf lightly lifting in the wind, he came to the grand ivory fountain.It gushed and gurgled, and towered thirty feet high in the powerfully elegant likeness of the school’s founder, Artemis Aphelion.

On the opposite side of the fountain, between crystal ribbons of clear streaming water, Miranda arrested his roaming gaze.His coffee paused at his lips.Her dark hair tumbled in glossy waves all over her shoulders as she clutched her drink beneath her chin.She glanced aside.

Pink lips.

Slightly upturned, _cute_ nose.

Dark red flattered her.

Vergil rolled his eyes, rebuking himself. _I don’t have time for girls.That’s Dante’s area of expertise._

Their gazes met across the fountain.

Vergil froze and made an involuntary gulp.

_Why is she looking at me!_

Miranda gasped and felt bubbles of blush pop across her cheeks.

_Why is he looking at me!_

It would be rude to ignore her now that eye contact had been made.Vergil’s ears grew warm.

The breeze suddenly picked up.

The papers across Miranda’s lap were taken up into the autumn gust. 

She bounced up from the bench.“No!”

Without a thought, Vergil bolted for her essay.Effortlessly, he snatched all five pages from the grasp of the breeze.He put them in order and gave the first page a casual glance.

_Her handwriting is so tidy!_

His heart… _bang bang bang_ … _hurt_.It was not from the spontaneous sprint.He had been doing track and field religiously for the last seven years.He had serious stamina, speed, and twelve trophies to prove it.He glanced over his shoulder.

“Thank you so much, Vergil!” Miranda exclaimed, smiling in relief. _He’s so fast!_

He offered her essay back to her.“It’s nothing.”

_Plumeria…_

Her smile fell away.“Oh, your coffee.”

His eyebrows lifted. _Coffee?_

She looked away from him, contrite.“I’ll buy you a new one since it’s my fault you spilled yours.”Out of her purse, she drew a white leather wallet.Blue roses were tooled into the front of it.

“Oh, don’t worry about it.”He ran a nervous hand through his hair.“I was almost finished with it anyway.”

She sighed, and slipped her wallet away.“I’m sorry.”

“No need to be.”He tried smiling, but it was just an awkward twist of his lips.

Her smile was shy and grateful.“Thank you.”She glanced down at her essay.“I was just trying to see if it’s good enough.”

“Which class is it for?”

“Ancient cultures.”

“Oh, I took that class last year.”The hammering of his heart would not stop.“If you like, I can give it a read.”

Miranda’s eyes shone behind her classy reading glasses.The chocolate and gold of her heterochromatic eyes complemented them well.So much color in her.“You wouldn’t mind?”

“Not at all.”A corner of his mouth tilted up, revealing one striking dimple.

Miranda’s stomach flipped backwards. _Oh his smile!_ He sat down and started reading.The admiral blue sweater he wore accented his wide shoulders and long torso.She shyly eased herself down beside him.Close, but not too close. 

Numerous girls chittered and sighed over Dante, but some made wistful mention of Vergil.The locker room was the main hub for overhearing teenaged girl fantasies.

_Oh. My. God. Did you see Dante make that shot in water polo this morning?I swooned so hard I almost drowned!_

_I’d offer to lick that chest dry any day._

_I think Vergil is hotter than Dante._

_Too bad Vergil dates books instead of girls._

_I dare you to ask him out!_

_No way!His eyes are pretty, but damn do they burn!_

_He is smart, though._

_Boring, you mean.I’d let Dante have me however he wants.Is my skirt high enough, you think?_

_I don’t think your skirt can go any higher without the teachers calling the cops._

Miranda wrinkled her nose, residual disgust for her ribald classmates clinging to her tongue like ticks.Of course Dante and Vergil were both handsome, but these girls thought of them like they were just pretty toys to play with.Apparently Vergil’s customary scowl kept most girls at a distance.

_He doesn’t scowl.He’s focused…and he smells so…manly._

Like oiled leather and smoky patchouli. 

A strange, rippling warmth stole over her, melting into her skin.Slyly, she stole a lingering glance at his toned thighs.The fabric of his pants hugged his runner’s muscle.Snug.Strong.Fire licked her ears.

Vergil concentrated on her essay, his brow bent, trying to ignore the tingling in his chest.He never knew how lovely plumeria smelled before.Was there something else beneath that fragrance?Something he could only describe as…stirring.

He cleared his throat.“You’re a good writer.”

Miranda’s fingers curled around the edge of her skirt.“Really?”

Vergil nodded.“You read a lot, don’t you?”

“Oh, um, yes, I do.”She met his eyes.Deep pools of ashen summer skies.

“I’ll be shocked if you don’t get an A.”

Miranda stared at him as if he had compared her to a toad.

A knot formed in Vergil’s chest.“Something wrong?”

Quickly she turned her attention to her shoes.“No one’s ever told me that before.”

Vergil frowned.“Not even your parents?”

She pursed her lips and clutched at the draping collar of her cozy sweater.“My papa…”Those acidic words haunted her.“I’m sorry.I don’t like to talk about it.”

Vergil’s stomach twisted.“I didn’t mean to pry.I apologize.”

“No, it’s okay.”A faint smile dressed her glossy lips. 

Together they let a breath of silence pass, taking in the distant raven calls and the rustle of leaves letting go.Content beside one another.Quiet.

Vergil nervously ran his thumbs over the top page of her essay, his eyes wandering around the courtyard.“So how are you liking Grey Grove?”

Miranda drew in a deep breath of coffee-flavored wind.“It’s a beautiful campus.The teachers are kind and the other students are—” 

She glanced at him and felt everything from her throat to her knees clench.Vergil’s masculine beauty was too striking even for fashion magazines.A nose to rival that of any valiant action hero.A jawline befitting mighty conquerors.Lips just perfectly full.Pensive brow.Deep, determined eyes.Now she noticed for the first time that his white hair had a grey tinge.Soft dove-grey.The thought of running her fingers through it made hot bubbles build in her belly.

The effect Vergil’s nearness had on her was like eight shots of espresso.The forgotten mocha cooling on the arm of the bench beside her only had two.

“—helpful,” she finally blurted, and glanced away.“Thank you again for helping me.”

The breeze stirred her hair.She brushed some behind her ear, her graceful fingers revealing her rosy cheekbone. 

Defying the cold nip of the season, summer heat climbed up Vergil’s neck.He gulped.

“You’re welcome,” he mumbled, and stood up too quickly.“See you in class.”

“Uh, Vergil?” she called after him before he hustled away too far on those long, strong legs.Smiling timidly, she said, “I need my essay back.”

Vergil’s brows jumped.Glancing down, he realized he had taken her essay with him.“Oh.”Cheeks flaming, he avoided eye contact like it might paralyze him and brought it back.“Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she assured him, taking back her assignment with a trembling hand.“See you in class?”

“Uh, yeah,” he muttered, and then made long strides across the cobbles toward the nearest cloister.

Miranda smiled at him as he went. _He’s so cute._ Suddenly she remembered she was wearing her reading glasses.Gasping, she yanked them off, grimacing. _I was wearing these the whole time?He must think I’m such a nerd!_

_* * *_

Vergil hustled into the nearest bathroom, shoving through the door hard enough to snap the backstop off the wall.Gripping one of the sinks, he scowled at himself in the mirror.

“Why does she have to be so…”He sighed roughly.“ _Pretty_?”

A nearby stall door slammed open.

“What’d you say?”

Vergil rolled his eyes in an almost complete 360 spin, and glared over his shoulder at his brother.“What are you doing in here?”

Dante cocked an eyebrow, his lips twisting in a preface to a snort.“This is the bathroom.”

“So?”Vergil growled.

“So I can be in here whenever the hell I want!”He rinsed his hands and flicked water at his peeved sibling.“So who’s pretty?”

“No one!”Vergil snapped, and stomped toward the door, but Dante grabbed his shoulder and spun him back around.

He leaned in close and uttered, “You like the new girl, don’t you?”

Vergil wrenched his shoulder away.“Tch!No!”He crossed his arms and curled his lip into a defensive pout.“I have absolutely no interest in any girl whatsoever!”

Dante sniggered behind one fist.Vergil’s cheekbones may as well have been painted hot night-club pink.“You’re hilarious.”

“Shut up,” Vergil muttered, his voice like gravel.

“So she smells nice…”Dante held up one finger.

Vergil shrugged, bobbing one eyebrow in feigned neutrality.

“She’s obviously smart…”Another finger.

Vergil looked away, swallowing hard enough that his throat starkly bobbed.

Dante grinned, sticking his tongue out between his teeth.“She’s _pretty_.”

Vergil’s nose crinkled as if he had just bit into a lemon.“Pointless.”

“I’m more observant than you think I am.”Dante slapped his brother on the back and pointed a finger-gun at him.“You got good taste.”

Vergil’s scowl deepened.“Don’t you have class right now?”

“Eh, it’s so boring.”Dante spread his arms, unenthused.“I hate science.”His devious grin returned and he bounced his eyebrows.“But this biochemistry you got going on is fascinating as hell.”

Vergil was ready to shoot locomotive steam out of his nose.“This is senior year, Dante!You can’t fail!”

Dante rolled his eyes.“I don’t really care, honestly—”

“Mother and Father care!”

“The only reason I’m making an effort is because of Mom!”

Vergil breathed a little easier now that the topic had shifted.“I’m revoking your access to my homework.”

Dante panicked.“Hey, whoa, whoa!”

Vergil’s eyes narrowed.“Go back to class.”

“Fine, fine.”Dante lifted placating hands, but a fresh, teasing smirk spread across his face.“Just promise me you’ll ask her out.”

Vergil winced as if someone had forgotten to flush a toilet.“What?”

Dante crossed his arms and cocked his head to one side.“I think she likes you too.”

“How do you know?” Vergil bit back, but then backpedalled, rolling his eyes.“Not that I really care.”

“Oh my dear brother,” Dante sighed, chuckling, and patted Vergil’s head.“Welcome to the world of women.”

Vergil swatted Dante’s hand away, glowering.“What makes _you_ such an expert?”

Dante laced his fingers together and stretched them high over his head, utterly smug.“If you dropped that Old Grump Style of yours you’d have a female following too.”

“I don’t want one!Besides, I told you I am _not_ interested in anyone!”Cerulean flame flickered along his shoulders.

“Vergil,” Dante sighed, “do us all a favor and let your real feelings out once in a while.”He tapped his brother’s forehead with the palm of his hand.“You always look like you’re constipated.”

Grimacing as if bee-stung, Vergil gritted his teeth and kept his silence.

“You realize you’re proving me right, right?”Dante lifted his eyebrows in victory and clapped a hand on his brother’s shoulder.“Let me know if you need to borrow one of my magazines.”He flashed a Cheshire grin.

Vergil snorted in disgust and turned toward the mirror.He slicked his hair back, and then shoved his brother aside, marching for the door.

“Finish senior year, Dante,” he snapped, and then was gone.

Dante chuckled to himself.“It’s fun to watch you squirm, Verge.A girl would definitely be good for you.”

* * *

Professor Bancroft wore iron-tipped high heels that stabbed the marble floor like vengeful javelins.Pencil skirt of charcoal grey, blinding blouse of sterile laboratory-white, and interstellar-black blazer defined her Amazonian build and pronounced her rigid expectations.Oval glasses rested atop her queenly nose, framing her hard camouflage-green eyes.The dry-erase marker squeaked across the whiteboard.

“Settle down.”She never shouted.She commanded.Students often wondered if she had a military background.The prevalent theory was that she was a descendant of Artemis Aphelion.“Your first project will be due on Halloween.”

Studious to a fault, Vergil opened his planner and wrote the assignment down.Two weeks.

_I got plenty of time._

Professor Bancroft underlined the due date.“This will be a team project.”

Vergil’s pen scratched to a squiggly halt.Nothing hindered his rise to Valedictorian like mandatory group efforts.Teammates always foisted the majority of the work onto him because he was always the smartest and most diligent one in the group.

_I’m always assigned to slothful fools._

“You may select any poem featured in the textbook.You will research the life of the author and interpret the poem you choose line by line.Always adhere to the standard essay protocols.The final product must be at least ten pages in length.”Professor Bancroft strode loftily in front of her podium to scrutinize the level of attention of her students.Peering down at a single sheet of paper in her gloved hand, she prefaced the declaration of the pairings.“You may not trade partners.”

_Of course not._

Seven pairings were revealed, and Vergil felt some relief that he was not doomed to work with them, but there were sixty-eight students.Too many bullets left to dodge.Vergil braced for the worst.

Professor Bancroft continued down the roster, her commanding voice echoing throughout the amphitheater.

“Vergil and Miranda.”

Vergil’s pen slipped out of his grip.His spine went rigid like rebar and an invisible rhinoceros heel-kicked him in the chest.

“Mr. Redgrave?”

Vergil rose out of his seat a bit stiffly.“Yes, ma’am.”

“I know you will extend naught but gentlemanly poise to our new student.”

He gave a jerky, but respectful bow of his head.“Of course, ma’am.”

“Teacher’s pet,” someone groused.

She nodded, and returned to reading off pairings.

Brain.Glitch.

Birds and butterflies swirled in Miranda’s breast, desperate for escape, flushed and flustered.Knots tightened deep in her belly.

_Vergil’s my…!_

She nibbled the end of her mechanical pencil.Glancing aside, she found herself beneath the scathing, catty leer of several senior girls.Padded bras.Garish lipstick.Eyelashes thicker than a geisha’s fan.Shoes worth more than Miranda’s laptop.

She dared not glance about to find her partner.Today she had chosen the second row, but hadn’t seen Vergil since their encounter in the courtyard.At least he thought her writing was worthy.Crossing her ankles, she turned to a clean page in her notebook, trying to ignore the scorching glares of her older classmates.

“The new girl gets Vergil?” one of them remarked, arching a perfectly penciled eyebrow.“How does that make any sense in this universe?She doesn’t even wear a single name brand.”

Miranda refused to take the bait and doodled her name in calligraphic letters as she waited for further instruction.The other girl snorted, her jewelry jangling.

Finally, Professor Bancroft concluded the list.“You will have twenty minutes to meet with your partners and discuss.Beginning…now.”

Everyone rose at once.Miranda swallowed and remained seated.Pencil lead snapped, carving a line across her name.

“He’s cold, you know.”The girl stood over Miranda, platinum blonde and awash in sickly sweet perfume that was an appalling triumvirate of buttercream frosting, burnt jasmine, and marijuana.“The dominating type.”Her vixen grin jabbed like a needle, and then she strode away.

Miranda frowned, nettled. _Why is everything a contest to girls like them?_

Even in the small sea of students, it was difficult to find Vergil’s telltale hair color.She decided to wait for the flux to ebb and flipped through the textbook.

“Miranda?”

Vergil stood beside her, his textbook and notebook under one arm, a pen in his opposite hand.Glancing up at him, Miranda became tremendously aware of his athletic height and frame.Length and strength.Control.Power.

 _Dominating?_ That’s not what she felt when in his presence. _No, that’s not the right word…_

She spun her pencil between her fingers at warp speed.“Oh, hi.”

That cute little crease seated between his brows amused her.He sat down in the vacated adjacent desk and opened his textbook.“I usually despise group projects.”

Miranda’s lungs seized up.“You prefer to work alone?”

“I know I can always rely on myself.”He skimmed the table of contents, but snatched a glimpse of her.Heat rippled down his neck.

She tapped her foot twice as fast as her pounding heart.“I’ll do my best not to hinder you.”

He winced, feeling like an utter clod.“No, I mean, I finally got lucky.For once.”

Miranda smiled, her eyes sliding shyly back to her textbook as blush blazed.“So which poem should we do?”

Vergil twirled his pen atop his finger and thumb, thinking about how dark and lush her hair looked.“Well, what do you like?”

He watched her run her finger slowly down the page, wondering what her gentle touch might feel like.Heat sizzled through his blood, searching for the hormonal equivalent to gasoline.He shifted in his seat.

“Do you like William Blake?”

The temperature rose.

Vergil just nodded.

Miranda turned to the proper page.“How about one of his poems, then?There are four we can choose from.”

Vergil stared at her. _She likes William Blake!_

She fidgeted with some of her hair.“I used to know _Auguries of Innocence_ all by heart, but that was years ago.Most people only know the first few lines, but they’re so beautiful I can’t blame anyone for not knowing the rest.Parts of it are a little confusing.Lots of animal and political references, but I like it. _The Tyger_ is good too.Blake has a powerful way of exuding the mood of the soul.”

Vergil kept staring at her.His heart was an iron pendulum between his lungs, swinging hard and fast.

She noticed his frozen silence, and laughed nervously.“I’m so sorry!I’m getting carried away.”

Blinking out of his stupor, Vergil also turned to the correct section in his textbook.“I admire your motivation.”

They spent a minute or two skimming over their choices.Two hearts together timed in flowering fusion.

“Oh, this one,” she sighed, deeply moved.“Do you know _Night_?”

Vergil knew it well indeed.“Remind me how it goes.”

Miranda, in her dulcet voice, recited:

_The sun descending in the west,_

_The evening star does shine;_

_The birds are silent in their nest,_

_And I must seek for mine._

_The moon, like a flower,_

_In heaven’s high bower,_

Vergil joined her:

_With silent delight_

_Sits and smiles on the night._

The intensity of the gaze they shared in that moment was an ascension.

“I love that one,” she whispered, her breath coming a little fast.

“Me too,” he agreed, noticing the rise and fall of her breast.He swallowed hard.

It was difficult to breathe.For both of them.

“Vergil?”

“Yeah?”

A quiet, heavy minute passed.His hands looked so strong, but also gentle.Capable of violence.Capable of kindness.The thought she meant to tell him flitted right out of her head.

“Miranda?”

“Yeah?”

“Five minutes,” Professor Bancroft announced.

Both Vergil and Miranda jumped.They chuckled at themselves.

“So shall we do _Night_ , then?” she suggested, trying to shake the pleasant surge he caused.

Vergil’s concentrated frown returned and he nodded.“Let’s do it.”A significant tightness lingered in the vicinity of his hips.“The poem.I mean, the poem.”He bent over his notebook and hastily jotted something down.

“When should we work on it?”

Vergil cleared his dry throat.“Maybe we should exchange phone numbers?You know, so we can meet and do it together?” _The POEM, do the POEM together!_ His brain needed more blood, but it was rushing everywhere else.

“Good idea.”Miranda took out her phone.

Vergil did the same.“I’m ready.” _Ready for her.Her number!To get it.Get her NUMBER._

She gave it to him and he entered it into his phone.Then he sent a text.

Miranda’s phone made a lovely, musical melody.“There you are.”

Everything within Vergil clenched. _I just asked Miranda for her phone number!_

She sent a text back.His phone made an epic battle noise.“Got it.” _Her TEXT, not HER!_

“Return to your seats, please.”Professor Bancroft.

Vergil rose to his feet and gathered his things.“We’ll ace this easily.”

They smiled at each other, and then he went back to his own desk.

Miranda sighed, trembling. _Vergil just gave me his phone number!Vergil asked for MY phone number!_ _He likes William Blake, too!_

_* * *_

According to his professor and old rock ’n roll standards, Dante was excelling in his guitar lessons.According to Vergil, Dante was only excelling in giving his twin brother an increasingly painful headache.

Slamming his textbook closed, Vergil shot to his feet and stormed out of his room.It took a solid minute of banging on his brother’s door before the guitar’s broken caterwauling stopped.

“Enough!”Vergil shouted.“I’m trying to study!”

By the age of six, the twins had to be separated.Sharing a room had never worked, resulting only in catastrophe that included four destroyed bunk beds, dozens of bruises, and several bloody noses.Eva had to buy the Extra Strength bleach to get all the red stains out of their clothes.

The door yanked open.“I’m practicing!”

Vergil crinkled his nose as if a profound rotten stench came wafting over him.“That’s debatable.”

Dante glared at him.“You just can’t appreciate the stellar energy that is rock music.Sucks to be you.”

“It’s _noise_ ,” Vergil emphasized.“Can’t you do it in the basement?”

“Dad’s got a project down there,” Dante reminded him.“It’s off limits, genius.”

Vergil sighed, frustrated.“Fine.”He turned on his heel and went back to his room.After gathering his school supplies into his messenger bag, he slid into his jacket and headed downstairs.

Sparda and Eva were enjoying the pristine quiet of the now infamous parlor, each reading an old tome that appeared to belong in a museum.

“I’ll be at the library,” Vergil called as he strode for the front door.

“Just be home in time for dinner, darling,” Eva called back.

“I will,” Vergil assured her, his tone rather clipped, and quickly escaped the house.

Sparda lifted his attention from his book and cocked an eyebrow when the door slammed shut.“Our eldest seems rather troubled lately.”

Eva raised a knowing smile at him.“Dante might be right.I think there is a girl.”

Sparda’s eyes widened, sparkling.“Indeed?”

Eva giggled.“Time will tell for certain, but I’ve noticed Vergil’s been testy after school.”

Sparda stroked his chin thoughtfully.“It appears I gave them The Talk just in time after all!”

Eva flinched, shaking her head, but a faint smile remained.“I find myself concerned more about Dante in that regard than Vergil.”

“Time will tell for certain,” Sparda echoed, “but at the very least, I trust both of our sons to be gentlemen.”

Residual annoyance plaguing his focus, Vergil revved his Corvette over the speed limit.

_Why must he be so unbearably obnoxious!_

The commotion was mellow at Redgrave’s only public library.It was small, but offered a little of everything.Sometimes the atmosphere was not exactly conducive for studying, but tonight it was enough.Vergil soon lost himself in the back room reserved for students.After setting up his laptop and stacking his textbooks, he meandered through the poetry section.

Byron.Chaucer.Plath.Poe.Milton.Shakespeare.Sydney.Tennyson.Wordsworth.

_No Blake?_

The scrap metal screeching of Dante’s “practicing” still stung Vergil’s brain like a wasp bite.

“You’re looking for Chaucer?”

Warm sparks like popcorn filled Vergil’s chest.

Again, her voice flowed through the battered bindings of the books between them.

“Ambitious choice, but a fun caper through old British comedy.”

Miranda rounded the corner and almost bumped into Vergil.

She gasped, pleasantly startled.“Oh!Vergil!”She laid a hand on her breast.Her ample, captivating breast.“Hi!”

Vergil gawked for about a millennia before he blinked.“Why are you here?”

Her lovely face fell into dejection as if he’d bluntly told her to get lost.“I’m sorry for bothering you.”She turned to leave.

“No, wait!”Was that distress that so swiftly stole into his voice?“I’m sorry, it’s just that I, uh…” _It’s just that I can’t think or breathe whenever I’m around you!_

Miranda turned back to him, her eyes, caramel-rich and beautiful, were still nervous.The eyes of a cautious but daring fawn.“Are you all right?”

Vergil nervously licked his lips and turned back to the poetry books.“I can’t find any Blake.”

“Oh, for our paper.”A hint of her usual sunny mien returned, and Vergil was glad he hadn’t frightened her off.

“We need biographical information,” he said stiffly, having noticed that she had come closer.“If we can’t find anything here there is always the internet, of course.I prefer books, though.”

“Very thorough of you.”She cast a small shy smile up at him.“I’d expect nothing less from a top ranking student.”

Vergil grinned, his ego flaring.“Well, if I recall correctly, you made that list at an admirable rank too.”

Her smile grew.Her glossy, plumeria-pink smile.“It seems Professor Bancroft arranged project partners wisely.”

There was a hot whirlwind spinning madly in the dead center of Vergil’s torso.“Do you have some time now to work on our project?”

Miranda’s heart scrambled in circles and her hands fidgeted.“Oh, I’m actually working right now.”

“Working?”

“Yeah.I’m a part-time librarian here.”

“Oh.”The last time Vergil had come to the library was before the school year had started.The timing made sense.“I have some other homework to finish.When do you get off?”

Blush as stark as strawberries flooded Miranda’s cheeks.“Oh, um…”She glanced around for a clock.

Vergil checked the wristwatch beneath his cuff.“It’s 4:30 now.”

“Oh, I’m off in an hour.”

“How about we work on it in an hour, then?”

Miranda fingered the end of a luscious curl of her hair.“Okay.”

Vergil nodded.“See you in an hour.”

She nodded too, her smile like starlight.“I’ll meet you in the students’ study room.”

“Perfect.”

After she returned to her duties, leaving him in an intoxicating cloud of plumeria, Vergil returned to the study room and fought to focus on his other work.

 _I asked her when she got off work!Desperate scum who loiter in bars do that!_ He leaned his elbows on the table and ran his hands into his hair. _She must think I’m scum!_

“Vergil?”

Startled as if she could hear his thoughts, he whirled around in his chair.“Miranda!”

“A little jumpy, aren’t you,” she giggled.

His eyebrows reached for his hairline.“Sorry.”What time was it?5:34. _It’s been an hour already?_ Miranda had so easily taken up residence in his thoughts, sweetly sweeping all else to the side.

“I found a few books that might help us.”She struggled to balance the load while trying not to lose the strap of her messenger bag off one shoulder and her purse off the other.

Vergil took the stack from her, set it on the table, and pulled out a chair for her.

“Thanks!”She smiled, grateful. 

“No problem.”Something got stuck in Vergil’s throat. 

After hooking her messenger bag and purse on the chair, she sat down beside him and slid on her reading glasses.“Shall we?”

Vergil and Miranda were discussing the second stanza of _Night_ when her stomach rumbled.The noise was like an air horn in the quiet of the library.Embarrassed, she quickly launched into a nonsensical rambling. 

Vergil gently cut her off.“Are you hungry?”

“What?No, I’m fine—”Her stomach growled again, impersonating a grumpy bear cub.Folding her arms across her belly, she looked away and muttered,“Maybe a little.”

Vergil checked the time.“It’s almost 7:00.”

“I’ll eat when I get home.It’s really okay.”However, her stomach was not in agreement.

“Studying on an empty stomach is foolish,” he remarked, and closed his laptop.“Let’s grab something and then finish this last part of the stanza.”

“Please don’t bother on my account!” she objected.

“Miranda, you could never be a bother,” he told her, as if such a notion were the most reckless thing anyone could ever suggest.“Being hungry is annoying.I mean, _you’re_ not annoying.It’s just difficult to focus.”Scarlet pooled into his face as he yammered on, flustered.“Of course, our ranks in class are impressive so I don’t doubt that our paper will be exceptional, but I just mean you should really take care of yourself.”The scarlet darkened.The deep frown etched between his eyes was confusing yet endearing.“I’m sure you do, though—”

“Vergil—?”

“—and you appear to be—”

She touched his arm.He immediately stopped babbling.Like switching off the radio.

“You’re sweet.”Her rosebud smile pierced right through Vergil’s chest.“Thank you.”

Vergil’s everything suffered a malfunction on an unprecedented scale.Heart fiercely pulsing in his throat.Stomach swirling in his feet.Blood surging at three hundred miles an hour along every avenue.Tongue turned to plywood.

 _I’m sweet?_ “It’s nothing.”He shrugged as if that were true and fumbled his laptop into his bag.

Miranda waited, wondering why he always seemed so stiff around her.

_Vergil could have any girl at school.Why would he be interested in a strange girl from a foreign, archaic society?I’m no one.He’s just being the polite gentleman that he is._

Together they walked two blocks to a nearby fast food joint.Darkness had fallen.On full alert, Vergil scanned their surroundings, never letting his guard down. 

“The streets of Redgrave are treacherous without warning,” he told Miranda.“Stay close.”

She did, wishing he’d offer his arm, but quickly chastised herself.

A blue and yellow neon sign in the shape of a cartoon burger surrounded by lightning bolts blazed just ahead: McMiller’s.

Miranda took a moment to peruse the delightfully uncomplicated menu while Vergil stood vigilant at her side.Sparda had yet to allow his sons to carry their demonic weapons in public, but Vergil always had his sharp martial art skills.

Miranda noticed his wide stance, centered and balanced.His shoulders were set, and he stood ready to combat any villain or vagabond.Like a bodyguard.A protector.

_No.Not dominating.Indomitable._

Trying to still the fluttering of her heart, she put in her order at the walk-up window.Then she turned to her valiant companion.“Vergil, what would you like?”

“I’m not hungry, but thank you,” he replied.

“Oh, come on, you must be!” she insisted, her cheery voice like a sprinkle of tiny bells.“French fries?A milkshake?Dante told me this place has really good strawberry milkshakes.”

 _Dante’s been talking to you behind my back?_ A sudden little hellfire erupted inside him, and in that deadly second he wanted nothing more than to smash his brother’s face into a wall.

“Are you all right?”Miranda sounded somewhat frightened.“You look angry.”

Vergil knew he was an Olympic gold medalist when it came to scowling, but never did he wish to upset Miranda.Quickly he adjusted his expression.“I’m sorry, I was just…”He met her worried eyes and softened.“Never mind.”

She nodded, but she did not appear all that convinced.“So what do you want?Let’s hurry.”Her teeth chattered.“It’s cold!”

He removed his thick, royal-blue scarf.Turning away, he offered it to her.“Here.”

The blush was like a surprise assault, pouring down her face and over her body like a bucket of molten sugar.With trembling fingers she accepted his scarf and wound it around her neck.

 _It smells like him.He smells so amazing!_ Her heart drummed so hard and fast she thought it might burst.

“Just a coffee for me,” Vergil told the cashier, a middle-aged woman of plump shape and chipper demeanor.He then produced a twenty dollar bill.

“Oh, I can pay for mine,” Miranda quickly said, unused to anyone paying on her behalf.

The cashier offered a few smaller bills and a couple of coins.“Your change, cute sir.”

Vergil balked a bit at the compliment, but easily shrugged it off.

“It’s fine,” he assured Miranda, accepting the money.

“First date?” the cashier asked, smirking.

Vergil and Miranda exchanged wide-eyed, embarrassed looks.

“No, we’re just um…” he mumbled as he stuffed his wallet back inside his jacket.

“We’re study partners,” Miranda blurted.“We have a project for school.”

The cashier nodded, still grinning.“You two sure blush a lot for study partners.”

Vergil cleared his throat, wearing his scowl again.“How long for the food?”

“Coming up in just a few, cutie pie.”She winked at him, and then left to check on their order.

Vergil rolled his eyes, unamused, and crossed his arms.

Miranda turned away to hide her most amused smile. _She’s not wrong.Even his pout is cute._

Vergil’s phone rang.Upon glancing at the caller ID, he swallowed hard. _Damn it, I forgot!_ He put his back to Miranda and answered in a subdued voice, “Hello, Mother.”

“Vergil!” Eva exclaimed, relief flooding her voice.“Oh, thank goodness!Are you still at the library?”

“Yes, I’m sorry.I lost track of time.”It was rare that Vergil was late for anything.“We’re working on our project.”

“We?”

Vergil’s heart clenched.“My partner and I.It’s a team assignment.”

“Is this partner working well with you?I remember you’ve had so many disrespectful partners before.”

He glanced over his shoulder at Miranda, who was smiling and thanking the cashier as she took a paper bag and Vergil’s coffee in hand.

A tiny smile tugged at one corner of his mouth.“Yeah.Really well.”

Eva sighed.“Alright then.Just be home by ten.”

“I will,” he promised.

They hung up.

“Ready?” Miranda asked, coming to his side and holding out his coffee to him.

He accepted it and nodded, that faint smile lingering.“Ready.”

As they ambled back to the library, Vergil silently sipped coffee while Miranda nibbled her cheeseburger.

“You’re really not hungry?” she asked.

Vergil shook his head.“I’m not particularly fond of fast food.”

“McMiller’s burgers are exceptional though.”

“I wouldn’t know.”He indulged another slurp of scalding coffee.

Miranda raised her eyebrows at him as if he’d just admitted to committing armed robbery.“You’ve never had a McMiller’s burger?”

“I’ve never had a burger period.”

Miranda stopped dead in her tracks.Vergil continued a few steps before looking back at her, puzzled.

“You have to try it!”She peeled away more of the wrapper.“Here.”

He rejoined her and frowned at the proffered untouched edge of the burger.“I’d rather not get my hands messy.”

She rolled her eyes.“Oh, come on, just take a bite.It’s good!”She laughed, and Vergil thought it was the sound of heaven.“We can still be friends even if you hate it.”

A dimple came out of hiding.“That’s a relief.” _Friends.Miranda and I are friends._

He licked his lips, still unsure about the burger, and then took a hearty bite.He refused to appear weak in his efforts.Ketchup oozed out and onto his hands.

“Leave some for me!” she teased.

At first, he frowned, studying the texture and flavor, ready to judge it as inferior to his sophisticated tastes.Miranda watched and waited for his verdict, wearing a lovely anticipatory smile.

Carefully he swallowed, and then announced, “Greasy, but not bad.”

“Not bad?” she giggled, taking back her burger.

“It’s not zucchini.I _hate_ zucchini.”Wrinkling his nose, he stared at his ketchup-stained hand.“But it’s messy.”

“Here.”She offered him a napkin.

“Thank you.”He wiped his hand with firm resolve, still grimacing.

“Well, I’m proud of you for trying something new.”Harmless teasing glittered in her eyes.His smile came back.

She took another polite bite, and was finished by the time the library came into view.After tossing the wrapper into a trash bin, she looked at Vergil and said, “Thank you for dinner.”

He nodded, shyly smiling.“You’re welcome.”

Miranda glanced at the clock and gasped.

Vergil stopped typing on his laptop.“What’s wrong?”

“Damn it,” she muttered, shoving books into her messenger bag.“I’m late.”

Vergil’s eyebrows jumped.He hadn’t pegged Miranda for cursing, but the punch of strength in it gave him a pleasurable little thrill.

“Late?”He checked his wristwatch.Almost 9:00.“For what?”

Her hands shook as she zipped her pencil pouch and struggled to adjust the strap on her messenger bag.

Vergil helped her.His fingers touched hers.Miranda snatched a small catch of breath.The warmth zoomed into his ears.

“I have to go.”She slung her purse onto her shoulder, hugged her bag to her breast, and turned to leave.“My papa will be furious.”

He knew she didn’t have a car, and taxis were sketchy in Redgrave.“Wait, Miranda.” 

Turning back, she looked up at him, nervous yet hopeful.“I have to hurry—”

“The last bus left ten minutes ago.”

“I know.I’ll walk.”

Vergil rose from his chair.“It’s too dark.Let me drive you home.”

Miranda’s lips parted in astonishment as her heart kicked up to a hundred miles an hour.“Um…”

“I respectfully insist,” Vergil continued, folding his hands behind his back as the heat of a steaming kettle filled his face.“A lady shouldn’t be left undefended against the unpredictabilities of the urban night.”

_He is so eloquent I could die!_

Miranda smiled, her cheeks wearing a similar veil of crimson.“I don’t want to trouble you—”

“It’s no trouble at all,” he assured her.“I feel partly responsible.”

She glanced at the clock again.“Well…” 

“I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable, of course,” Vergil quickly told her, spreading his hands, afraid he had offended her.

“No, it’s not that,” she replied, shaking her head, afraid she had offended _him_.“It’s just… My papa might ask questions.”

“He’s rather strict?”

She dropped her gaze, struggling for an explanation that didn’t involve uncomfortable details.“Yeah.”

“I don’t want you to be in trouble with him.”

Miranda thought for a moment more.“It’d be worse if I were late getting home.”Her smile returned, shy but always sweet.“Thanks.”

Vergil nodded, and then quickly packed up his things.

Miranda waited, lost in admiring his broad shoulders and…

_He has a cute butt._

“Ready?”

Miranda stiffened, blush storming.“Uh, yeah.”

Vergil escorted her to his shining Corvette and opened the passenger door for her.

She smiled at him.“Thank you.”

His heart leapt into his skull and danced in circles around his brain.He closed her door and then slid into the driver’s seat.With a powerful purr, the stylish sports car pulled onto the street.Vergil hit the speed limit in two seconds.

“Your car is beautiful,” Miranda remarked.The interior was pristine and it smelled like Vergil’s cologne.Just like his scarf, which was still snuggly curled around her neck.The virile scent made her throat tighten.

“Thank you,” he replied. _Why can’t my body temperature regulate when I’m around her?_ “My father gave it to me for my sixteenth birthday.”

“Wow, he sounds very generous,” she remarked, quiet and monotone.

“I’m responsible for maintenance and gas, though, so I give kendo lessons on weekends to make money.”

She brightened.“You know kendo?”

He nodded.“Karate, too.I’m assistant to my sensei, Master Dan, and he allows me to use his dojo for freelance lessons.”

Miranda was completely entranced.“Are you a black belt?”

His ego puffed up like a marshmallow.“Almost.Next year I’ll have my final test.”

“I’m certain you’ll pass,” she remarked, excited for him.“There’s always this aura of motivation surrounding you.”

Like a peacock fanning his feathers, Vergil grinned in shameless complacency.

“Are there many female students at your dojo?”

He cast her a bewildered frown.“What do you mean by that?”

“Nothing!I’m sorry!”She turned away, thoroughly embarrassed. _I’m jealous?I’ve no right to be!_

“Are you cold?”He reached for the temperature controls.

“No, I’m fine.” _I’m a little too warm._

The thrumming of the car was not the only energy between them.

“How long have you lived in Redgrave?”Vergil asked, driving on autopilot.

“Not long.”Miranda gave her luscious coils of hair a little toss. 

The fragrance of plumeria fell over Vergil like a warm mist for a powerful second, seeping into his muscle, clenching it. 

Her fingers fidgeted.“I moved here a week before school started.”

Vergil cleared his throat.Loudly. _What form of power is this?_ “Not long at all.”

“Do you live far from school?” she asked.

“Just outside of town.”

Vergil felt her beautiful eyes on him.“In the countryside?”

He nodded. _Don’t look at her.If I look at her…_ If he looked at her he might crash.

“I’d love to see the countryside.”Miranda turned to the window again.Vergil chanced a glimpse of her, swallowing hard.“Fortuna doesn’t have many trees where I grew up.”

Vergil spoke without thinking.“I can take you there sometime, if you like.”

The tiniest gasp escaped her.“Really?”

 _She sounds so excited._ He’d hate to disappoint her.“Sure.”The Corvette eased to a perfect halt at the next stoplight.“Am I going the right way?”

“Oh, sorry!Yes, keep going this way, and then take a left onto Ember Avenue.”

The light turned green.

“I’m the fourth house on the right,” she said, pointing.

Vergil smoothly pulled up.The porch light was on.“Would you like me to walk you to the door?”

 _I would like that so very much!_ “My papa might…”

Vergil winced.“Ask awkward questions?”

She nodded, grimacing.“I’m sorry.”

“It’s no worry.”A smile grew upon his lips.“Have a good night, Miranda.”

Miranda’s breath stopped. _Those dimples!_ “Goodnight, Vergil.Thank you for the ride.”

His smile remained.“You’re welcome.”It certainly wasn’t nothing.

“Oh, your scarf.”She started unwrapping it from her neck.

“It’s really cold outside,” he said, holding up a hand.“You can return it tomorrow.”

Miranda’s fingers dug into his scarf, its scented warmth enveloping her.The scent of _him_.“You’re so sweet.”Red as raspberries, she gave him one last smile.“Bye.”

She slid out and the car door closed.

Vergil waited until she was safely indoors.Before vanishing inside, she waved at him.He waved back.

A huge sigh built in his chest, and then he let it go.It felt like he’d been holding his breath for the last five hours.His thoughts wandered back through that evening.The smile still huddled at the corner of his mouth as he imagined her dark hair stirring in the Autumn breeze beneath the trees of his countryside home.

_I bought her dinner.I drove her home.I offered to take her to the countryside._

Suddenly he bolted upright as if a white-hot lance had just impaled him.

_Did I ask her out?!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Easter Eggs:  
> The "messy burger" scene is an homage to Visions of V 😊  
> Master Dan is my humble homage to the man himself, Dan Southworth, since he is both Vergil and a martial artist 🙏🏻  
> Dante's line about Vergil looking "constipated" is in reference to something Dan Southworth said while on a panel about Vergil 😂  
> The blue roses on Miranda's wallet are a symbol of Nero ☺️  
> I found a candle at a craft store called "smoky patchouli" and DAMN did it smell like a HAWT man 🥰  
> McMiller's is in reference to Kazuhira Miller and his funny obsession with making the perfect burger for the boys of Mother Base in Metal Gear Solid V: The Phantom Pain 😆  
> The poem _Night_ is also featured in my DMC story about Vergil/Nero's mother called _Heaven's High Bower_ 💙❤️  
> I chose track and field as Vergil's sport because I personally find Vergil SO difficult to fight in the games because of how FAST he is! 😤😆


End file.
